Formula 1: The GOAT

The smile didn’t leave Fatih’s face for the entire ride home. Peering through the car window, he replayed the qualifying session in his mind. Not even the third group had come close to his lap time, cementing his pole position for tomorrow’s qualifying heats. Starting at the front meant he could avoid the chaotic midfield battles; while the track allowed for overtaking, not needing to fight through the pack was always preferable.

“Are you that happy, dear?” his grandmother Güldane asked, noticing the persistent grin.

“Yes, Grandma! Very happy that I’m getting closer to getting a camera!” he chirped. Both his mother and grandmother laughed, amused by his reasoning. They had expected him to be thrilled about starting P1, not because it made winning easier, thereby increasing his chances of Rümeysa buying him the promised camera.

“I’ll keep my promise as long as you keep your end of the deal,” Rümeysa said, her eyes meeting his in the rearview mirror. “So, make sure to do your best.”

“Why are you saying it like that? You’re just increasing the pressure on him,” Güldane interjected gently. She turned to Fatih. “Don’t listen to her, sweetie. Just focus on enjoying yourself. Even if you don’t win, I’ll make her buy you the camera.”

“Are you going to be the one paying for it then?” Rümeysa teased her mother.

“I’m not his mother, you are!” Güldane retorted with a laugh, while Rümeysa just shook her head, a smile playing on her lips as she refocused on the road.

The rest of the journey home was filled with lighthearted chatter. The evening concluded on a happy note, and Fatih went to sleep with eager anticipation for the races ahead. True to his routine, however, he still entered the Simulation for his nightly practice, a discipline he never skipped.

……

The next morning, the Istanbul Karting Park was slick with fresh rain.

“I don’t see this first qualifying heat ending without a few slides! Oooooh, and it seems I’m right! The track is thoroughly wet from last night’s downpour,” the main commentator exclaimed as a line of forty karts embarked on their formation lap.

“It’s certainly a challenge for many of these young drivers,” Zakir, the co-commentator, took over. “For some, this is their first-ever heat race, and to do it in these conditions, with little to no rain experience, must be incredibly unnerving. Surprisingly, Fatih, starting from P1, looks remarkably stable. He and Jackson in P2 are at the very front, effectively becoming the first to test the track’s grip, yet they’re handling it well.” The screen showed Fatih and Jackson slowing the pack into a neat double file as they approached the T11 left-hander, preparing for the rolling start.

“This is where experience can often triumph,” the main commentator resumed, his voice building anticipation. “Jackson, and Selçuk who’s right behind Fatih in P3, have prior race experience. But this is a first for Fatih, meaning the pressure on him is immense, especially starting from the front.”

The karts crawled towards Turn 12, engines buzzing, drivers poised. “And they approach the final turn, feet hovering over the accelerators, waiting for the green flag… AND THE FLAG DROPS! Fatih gets a phenomenal start down the straight! Selçuk immediately tucks in behind him, while Jackson tries to close the kart-length gap Fatih has already opened as they drag race towards the first corner!”

“Fatih shows his bravery, keeping the power down, while Jackson lifts slightly and slots in behind him, Selçuk following in third! Fatih goes off the usual dry racing line for Turn 1, trail-braking expertly… OOOOOH! Selçuk attempts a divebomb from the conventional line but goes wide! Fatih holds his nerve and keeps the lead, followed by Jackson, then Huzeyfa, as Selçuk loses a position for his audacious but ill-fated move! A brave attempt nonetheless!”

“Fatih now leads onto the longest straight – two hundred and fifty meters to Turns 2 and 3! Jackson, tucked neatly into Fatih’s slipstream, benefits from the tow, even inducing a mini-DRS effect by ducking his head, reducing the gap Fatih was punching in the air for him,” the first commentator paused for a quick breath, allowing his colleague to jump in.

“They’re nearing the end of the straight, Jackson has caught right up!” Zakir’s voice rose with excitement. “But it seems he’s learned from Selçuk’s earlier mistake! He aborts his overtake attempt and tucks back in behind Fatih, letting the leader carve the path. But unlike Jackson’s caution, Selçuk is still pushing! He dive-bombs on the inside of Turn 2 again! AND IT WORKS THIS TIME! He masterfully overtakes Huzeyfa and regains P3 through Turn 3! Wooow, this is thrilling racing!”

“It looks like Fatih has weathered that early storm perfectly,” the main commentator observed. “The pressure we anticipated doesn’t seem to have hindered him at all. He’s now leading this qualifying heat at the end of lap one by more than five kart-lengths, as both Jackson and Selçuk appear to be having a much harder time navigating this treacherous wet track. The same can be said for the rest of the field.”

“Oooooooh, and it seems the commentator’s curse is in full effect!” Zakir interjected. “We have another slide-out further down the pack in lap one! Since he was already last, he hasn’t lost a position, but a significant gap has opened between him and the kart ahead. And speaking of gaps, one is certainly opening at the very front! Fatih seems to be reveling in these conditions, pulling away decisively from P2!”

“Indeed! His proficiency in the wet, showcased yesterday in FP2, clearly wasn’t just because the track was drying then,” the first commentator agreed. “He’s proving it now on an even wetter surface. It’s as if he’s driving on a dry track while his competitors are struggling for grip, despite their wet tires! He crosses the start-finish line to begin his second lap! Let’s wait for Jackson to complete his… YES! Three seconds! In a single lap, Fatih has opened a gap of three seconds! Now that is what you call being comfortable in the wet! One lap down, nine more to go in this ten-lap heat race!”

…..

Once Fatih took the lead, he never looked back. Lap after lap, he consistently widened the gap, making minimal errors while his rivals struggled. By the fifth lap, he had already established an astonishing ten-second lead over P2.

‘This kid is a monster,’ Burak thought, watching Fatih navigate the second double hairpin – T9 (left-hander) and T10 (right-hander) – before powering onto the straight. Fatih expertly kept to the drier racing line, a stark contrast to the sodden off-line sections. He lifted only slightly for T11, carrying incredible speed for the wet conditions – another area where he was gaining significant time, as other drivers lacked his bravery on the edge. He executed the final corner, T12, with similar precision before blasting across the line to complete his sixth lap, extending his lead over P2 by another second.

Burak had always considered Fatih exceptionally talented. He’d expected him to be a front-runner, but this level of dominance, especially in the wet, was beyond anything he’d anticipated. He had never tutored Fatih specifically on wet-weather driving; there simply hadn’t been an opportunity. Yet, here was his student, driving as if born to race in the rain, outclassing competitors who had far more race weekend experience than Fatih had total training days at the academy.

‘Looks like I need to request the academy to increase their investment in him,’ Burak mused, a determined glint in his eye. ‘He might just be our golden goose if he maintains this form.’ He made a mental note. ‘But first, let’s observe him for the entire weekend.’ He refocused his attention on the track.

….

“You see? Even Jackson is having trouble!” Selçuk’s mother, Fatma, said pointedly to her husband, Aslan. His gaze was fixed on the track, watching Fatih, now on his way to completing his ninth lap, his lead over P2 an almost unbelievable fifteen seconds. “Are you going to berate Jackson now and say he isn’t talented either?”

“…..” Aslan didn’t respond. He knew his wife was right but found it hard to accept. A lifelong motorsport enthusiast, his own impoverished upbringing had denied him the chance to race.

He had poured his unfulfilled dreams into his car equipment shop chain and, later, into his son when Selçuk showed an interest in motorsport. He’d vowed to give his son every opportunity, but it was becoming painfully clear that Selçuk’s passion wasn’t matched by transcendent talent – good, yes, but perhaps not exceptional enough to secure a long-term future in the cutthroat world of motorsport. Still, he’d ensured Selçuk had ample practice and training. ‘Maybe I should…….’

His thoughts were shattered by the commentators’ booming voices, their excitement reaching a fever pitch. “And Fatih, having not put a single wheel wrong, has already completed more than two-thirds of his final lap! He exits T10, enters the straight, and despite it being his final lap and holding a lead of over fifteen seconds, he shows no signs of easing off! He only lifts slightly through T11, enters the short straight before taking the final corner… He started this race from the lead, and he finishes it in the same commanding fashion! FATIH YILDIRIM WINS THE FIRST QUALIFYING HEAT RACE OF HIS FIRST-EVER CHAMPIONSHIP WEEKEND! WOOOW!”